Quarantine
by Adie Ornament
Summary: Over the Holidays, the most unlikely people will have to cope with each other's company while being quarantined. Multiple pairings.
1. Quarantine Effective Immediately

Disclaimer: All the characters belong to J.K.Rowling. Adie is just a fan.

_Dear readers_

_Before you start to read, Adie would like you to be informed about the lack of updates and the revision of both of her stories. _

_Adie is extremely sorry for being such a procrastinator and for those who have stuck with this story even after all these months, well, to put simply, SHE LOVES YA! Adie hopes in the future that she will be __**a lot **__better at updating. If not, well, you can expect a similar note of the likes of this._

_Secondly, if you are big fans of the original story, Adie is sorry but, she felt the need for changes and hopes you like this one just as much. The chapters as you can tell are a lot longer and, the plot should develop a lot smoother this way. _

_The Malfoy Crown Affair will undergo similar editing but, the evilness that is Draco, the insanity that is Blaise and the stupidity of their ideas will not change. That is after all, why Adie loves them. It should be updated soon._

_Enjoy._

_Adie Ornament._

_**But as the scenery grows, I see in different lights**_

_**The shades and shadows undulate in my perception**_

_**My feelings swell and stretch; I see from greater heights**_

_**I understand what I am still to proud to mention- to you.**_

Never is a promise; Fiona Apple

**What Would An Angel Say? The Devil Wants To Know.**

It was a harsh winter. With Christmas approaching, all the students grew more and more anxious to leave the terribly cold school and huddle inside their warm houses with their families. Not even magic could cure their grumpy moods as the last day of school finally ended. With only a few students staying and no visitors planning to come to the castle, it was sure to be a very uninteresting holiday.

No one could fathom just what the impending storm would bring. It wouldn't just be snow, ice, wind and sleet; it would bring something completely different as well.

"Come on Gin, you love Christmas at the Burrow and you'd have to be mental to stay here. It's horrid. I welcome the moment I'll be able to feel my fingers again." Ginny's older brother Ronald was just settling into his brotherly role, worried as usual about his little sister. Clutching the burgundy coat tighter around his lean frame and wrapping the plaid scarf once more around his neck he stared at the young sixteen year old, who was shivering as wisps of smoke tumbled out of her rosy lips.

"Honestly Ron! I'll be fine. It's just a bit of snow." Ginny knew that was an understatement as she glanced around to see mountains of snow around them and more falling at the moment. "Now, you best get a move on, the train'll leave soon and I know that mum will have a fit if more then one of us doesn't come home on that red express." Giving him a quick peck on the cheek, she handed him his final piece of luggage and waved him off. She waved until the Hogwarts Express was completely out of sight until she moved from her spot.

Just outside the castle she was greeted with noiseless corridors and, even more strange- empty corridors. Happy Holidays… more like solitary confinement, she thought.

Perhaps though, she was being too pessimistic for such a jolly time of the year. Hogwarts certainly couldn't be that bad; Dumbledore had decorated it rather pleasantly. Mistletoe hung from every doorframe, there were wreaths, and trees – both decorated and _au naturel_. The castle was beautiful, and Ginny became determined to enjoy it as she would have at the Burrow. She knew though that despite the pleasant surroundings of mistletoe and snowflakes, one thing would be missing. The Weasley family.

Pushing any thoughts concerning Christmas at the Burrow out of her head, Ginny focused on the reason that she was at Hogwarts and not at presently, on the train with everyone else. The _TROLL_ grade that she presently had in Transfiguration. After a meeting with McGonagall, both Ginny and her professor came to a mutual decision of an over the holiday project to make up for every other failed work submitted by Ginny. It was fair enough, she supposed. Better than failing.

Besides, Luna was staying as well, so there was good company – which is a necessity for Christmastime. Although that meant last minute Christmas shopping, something Ginny dreaded; believing it more to be a battlefield than a day out at the shops. She had yet to get Luna a gift, and she needed one for McGonagall as well. A trip to Hogsmaede was in order.

So absorbed in her thoughts, Ginny looked at her surroundings for the first time since seeing her brother off. She was still outside, her hands, she just realized, were numb and red, as she had forgotten her mittens inside. She cupped her hands and blew hot air into them. She was just outside the Quidditch pitch and from her spot; she could see that someone was flying.

Entering the pitch, she could see a figure clad in green atop a broomstick. It was Malfoy. She stared, angry shouts threatened to burst from her mouth. It took all her energy to form one coherent thought.

**He is not supposed to be here.**

* * *

She sighed. Her windows were ice cold, frost continued to dance it's way along the ornate glasswork of the young girl's Ravenclaw dormitory. Wrapped in numerous blankets, varying from fleece to wool to her roommates' precious dragonhide. From her view, Luna could see most of the grounds including the Great Lake that was no longer covered in various students and their skates. Faded figure eights were all that was left. She sighed again; Christmastime would not be the same this year.

Two days ago, Luna had received a letter and package while eating her breakfast. The package was terribly wrapped in the ugliest Christmas paper she had ever seen, it was a mess of Santa's, reindeers, wreaths, ornaments and everything else associated with this time of year. After her examination of the package, she opened the letter and began to read the hurried scrawl that was her father's writing.

_Luna,_

_Weird sightings along the Mediterranean_

_Must go_

_Don't bother coming home_

_Love,_

_Dad_

_P.S. Happy Christmas._

She sighed again, remembering the letter, further proof that her father would always choose the Quibbler over her.

Knocks on the door woke her from sombre thoughts. Luna wiggled out of her cocoon and headed to the door. Opening it, she was greeted to a second or third year girl who stuttered that someone was waiting for her outside the Ravenclaw common room.

Hastily, Luna pulled on her boots, coat, Ravenclaw coloured scarf, hat and her wool mittens. Back in her usual whimsical mood, she exited her dormitory and made a beeline for the freckled redhead who stood outside.

Smiling, she greeted Ginny and the two friends then proceeded outdoors.

* * *

He was so strangely familiar. The features were those that any girl would remember, she thought, searching his face for a name. Then, his mouth twitched as he tried to conceal a smile after watching Malfoy pull up from a dive, and Susan recognized him after her careful and subtle analysis.

He sat at the very top of the stands, on the Slytherin side, she noted, feeling foreign and out of place.

Montague. She remembered the Hufflepuff Quidditch team talking about him from time to time in the common room. Good player, they'd admitted grudgingly. Last Susan had heard, he was playing for some big team in Wales, but she'd never really bothered to find out which one. She didn't really like the sport all that much, it brought out the bad side of her fellow students.

But why was he here? He had already graduated and besides, it wasn't that the situation was suspicious. Rather, just curious.

Montague sat there taking notes, watching, then quickly penning whatever he saw, then watching again.

Slowly, she approached the Hogwarts alumni.

"Mind if I sit down?" She spoke with confidence. Unlike others, Susan admired the prospect of House unity; even if she was the one required to make the first move.

"Go ahead; Snape's already tarnished it with his own greasy ass." He spoke to her but his eyes remained fixed on Malfoy as he circled the pitch.

"Well, in _that _case…" she said as she sat down.

For as long as Susan could keep her mouth shut, they sat in silence. No insults, no snide remarks and amazingly no hexes thrown between either of them. All Susan could do was twiddle her fingers, dying to ask what the Slytherin was doing at Hogwarts.

"Beautiful day," she remarked nervously, as if Montague would call upon every Death Eater he knew because of her commenting on the weather,

"Spit it out, or go away. Don't think that because I'm Slytherin I'm as idiotic as the others in my house. Go annoy someone else if all you really came to talk about was the weather."

Slowly allowing herself to grin, Susan relaxed and stopped fidgeting. "What are you doing here? Quidditch business? Is that why you're taking notes on Malfoy?"

Seeing that Montague was still giving all of his attention to Malfoy, she leaned over his shoulder, on a mission.

"_Moderately good flyer, although still can't seem to beat Potter, so perhaps not best asset to team. Seems to want to impress; fancy moves down pat, but simplest moves seem to be a struggle. Needs lessons if—_"

"This is really none of your business." snapped Montague as he covered his parchment with his arm. "Who are you anyways?"

"I'm not asking about _business_, Montague. I'd just like to know. Humour me; I'm curious." A tinge of pink appeared on her cheeks as she realized she forgot to answer his question. "I'm Susan. Susan Bones, I'm a Hufflepuff."

"Curiosity killed the cat, you know, Bones" he said, more airily than before.

"I don't think that any information concerning 'golden-boy' Draco Malfoy is lethal enough to kill me."

"You'd be surprised." His tone was much harsher than it had been previously. Susan stared at him, watching him watch Malfoy with a dark look on his face. Suddenly, his face contorted and Montague let out a series of hacking coughs. His quill fell as his had flew to his chest and the other waved her off, as if this wasn't serious. Or unusual.

It finally stopped, picking up his quill, he once again resumed his work. Susan knew that something was going around the school, many or her classmates and taken trips to see Madame Pomfrey and her medical expertise. Up close though, she knew that this was worse than your average cold or flu. Montague briefly looked at her, perhaps to see her reaction and wasn't surprised to see concern etched into her features. His friends had given him the same look.

"I'm fine. There seems to be a bug going 'round your school. Loas of kids are sick. I probably just caught it walking through the corridors. Seriously, I'm fine."

"No. You're not."

"I'm fine, Bones!"

"No you're not. And don't call me Bones!"

* * *

Cho walked down the hallway for the third time this week. First it had been the coughs. Her chest and throat had burned as she hacked through the night and day, disturbing her classmates constantly and getting no rest during the night. A quick trip to Madame Pomfrey and some sleeping potion later, she expected to get good nights sleep. What she woke up to though had been a second symptom. Chills. A second trip to the mediwitch was in order. With a new set of potions, she thought she would be cured.

The fever had come in the last night, getting higher and higher each passing hour. This time, it was not her usual bed that she would be sleeping in. Her friend Marissa had had similar symptoms and was required to remain in the hospital wing.

The wing's cots had begun to fill up again, winter was especially bad in this damp and cold castle. Cho thought nothing of her sickness, thinking that this flu like virus could be used as an excuse as to why she hadn't even started her potions work, the reason why she had actually stayed at Hogwarts for a while longer instead of visiting her family for the holidays.

Humming a popular tune, she became the fourth student to occupy a bed.

* * *

After multiple snowball fights and making snow angels, Ginny and Luna headed inside for a cup of coca inside the kitchen. Sipping their drinks they discussed the usual array of topics.

"Mum was pretty mad when I told her." Gently thumbing the large mug that rested in between her two hands Ginny continued. "It really came as a shock to her that I'd gotten a _TROLL_ in transfiguration. Don't know why, my grades in that class have been slowly declining with each passing year. Guess she was just in denial. Still, I'm pretty pissed I won't be at the Burrow for Crimbo this year for the sole reason that McGonagall has a stick so far up her arse that she is incapable of seeing my reasoning."

"And what is your reasoning?"

"That I don't care."

Luna laughed. Ginny was the best company that she could think of. "Fair enough."

"What about you? You were so looking forward to spending time with your dad."

Now it was Luna's turn to fidgit with the mug, somewhat embarrassed be her father's unparent like behaviour. "He deserted me so he and some of his rather eccentric mates could go watch Nogtails along the Mediterranean."

"The Quibbler has been flying off the stands in it's recent issues," Ginny stated matter of factly. "Perhaps he just wants some exciting news to ensure that it remains as such. I'm sure things will calm down in a bit."

"Speaking of news, did you read the Prophet today?"

Ginny nodded. "Ministry troubles. How typical that they'd try to pin it on Dumbledore again. Honestly, I can't believe the shit that the Prophet has been printing as of late. Until it's verified by another paper, I refuse to believe their trash."

Luna refilled her Christmas themed mug. "I agree. Their journalists seem to write for the sole purpose of breeding controversy."

A snort was Ginny's only reply.

"What?"

"I just think that journalist is too good a word for those at the Prophet. They're the same old shower. Fat and stupid miscreants who receive numerous awards when the reach a certain weight."

They both laughed as they exited through the portrait hole. Making their way to the great hall, they passed portraits of Cliodna, Nicholas Flamel ("Must be new," mused Ginny) and Democles decked out in holly and tinsel. Arriving at the Great Hall, they were greeted with a strange sight. It was virtually empty, only eleven students, including themselves presided in the room. Of the teachers, the sole one present was the potions master, Snape, the usual look of disdain greeting them as they entered.

Looking around, Ginny was amazed to see the likes of Oliver Wood, Montague and her brother, Bill in attendance. Confused, she and Luna sat down. Everyone seemed to be just as anxious to learn what was going on. The other thirty odd students who had decided to stay over the holidays were nowhere to be seen.

It was then that Snape began to speak.

"Something is wrong at Hogwarts. Against my better judgement, I have decided that you ought to know just what is happening here. A Quarantine has been placed upon Hogwarts." Shocked faces were all that Snape could see but, deep down, they knew that something had been amiss. That the coughs that echoed through the hallways, that the shivering in the classes and that the fevers that couldn't be stopped, deep down, they knew that this was different. "Effective, immediately."

_Little introduction there, things should really start to get interesting from here on in. Adie loves comments and would love it if you could just leave a little message, even if it is just a hello or whatnot. _

_The next chapter is already halfway done and will be put up shortly. Cookies will be put up at Adie's livejournal- adieornament. It may shortly become friends only so, just friend her and she will friend you back._

_-Adie._


	2. You Caught Me Lingering

**Disclaimer**: _Adie forgot to say this in the last chappie so, here goes-_

_The journalist remark was taken from Blackadder, Adie just sorta rearranged it to fit it into the story._

_The whole "Don't call me Bones" shebang comes from Bones._

_Also, "What would an Angel Say? The Devil Wants to Know" is from Fiona Apple. Adie loves her very much._

_Anyways, Harry Potter belongs to J.K.Rowling, not Adie Ornament._

* * *

**You said "He's got a healing machine  
It glows in the dark  
Glows in the dark."   
You say, "There's not a lot of me  
Left anymore -  
Just leave it alone.  
But if you're buy, and you have the time,  
Tell the northern lights to keep shining –  
Lately it seems like they're drowning."**

Amber Waves; Tori Amos

* * *

**You Caught Me Lingering**

"It is now forbidden to leave the castle, anyone attempting to will suffer the consequences. You are not to communicate with anyone outside of Hogwarts. Letters have already been owled to your families explaining everything. The more you cooperate, the easier and faster this mess will be sorted out.

Once you have finished your meals, you are to report to the hospital wing where you will receive a vaccination, after that, you are to immediately return to your common rooms where you will remain for the rest of the evening. Only for meals are you allowed to exit your common rooms.

If you happen to find you are suffering already from any symptoms, you are to head to the hospital wing and same goes for if you develop any symptoms.

If you have any questions or concerns" Snape paused and several hands shot up into the air, "You clearly weren't listening." Finished his speech, the potions master exited the Great Hall as students watched his billowing robes fade from view. Murmurs and whispers floated around the Hall, all conversation laced with a growing panic.

Each day, Snape and the uncontaminated students would report for their vaccinations and each day, someone would show signs of symptoms they had tried to hide. Soon, twelve became ten and ten became six until not one was disease free, not even the potions master himself who had kept himself up for weeks trying to discover anything about the plague that had infiltrated Hogwarts.

* * *

**Day One**

Snape knew something more was wrong though. Dumbledore, McGonagall and Pomfrey had all disappeared more than a week ago. They hadn't been seen once the Reds had come.

Snape had a nasty feeling about them, the Reds with their bloody cloaks and masked faces, they had come to quarantine the Hogwarts area. They worked for the Ministry of Magic in a branch not unlike that of the Department of Mysteries. They hid in the shadows, observing and taking notes. The next day they would come in with a new potion, each day, a different remedy to be shoved down the patients throat.

Scattered everywhere on Snape's desk had been various newspapers. Not even the Daily Prophet had produced a story on the plague spreading through Hogwarts and, no one outside the school had been reported as to suffering similar symptoms.

But then, things had changed. He woke up in a hospital bed opposite Hermione Granger and beside Cho Chang. The bizarre thing was, he had no idea how he happened to get here. Hermione and Cho said they had suffered similar lapses in memory.

What worried Snape most though was the condition Cho was in, she was by far in the worst shape. Before she had disappeared, Madame Pomfrey had confided something to him, something very worrying.

In all her medical career, she had never seen anything like this and neither, had any medical textbook. Ever.

* * *

The room where they were was somewhere different then the hospital wing. There were no windows, just half a dozen cots pushed up against the walls. The cots were terribly uncomfortable. It's as if they were designed so that no one could have a full nights rest on them, no matter how hard they tried. It also seemed to always be cold, making it unbearable to touch the stone floors. 

When Montague and his collegue Oliver Wood had come to Hogwarts on official quidditch business, he was expecting the dullest three days of his life, watching wannabe players fall off their brooms and their dumbstruck faces as various quaffles (and their careers as a professional quidditch player) fly past them.

But now, he wished it could be as such. He would rather stick a very rusty knife in his eye then be cooped up in the dank hospital cell for one more day. Pacing across the floor, he studied his "company."

First there was Oliver who was all right once you got past the fact that he was a tad insane. Montague was always cautious when discussing quidditch tactics with him, careful never to get him to excited. They had been together since they'd graduated and after they had gotten past the whole house rivalry thing, they turned out to make a pretty fierce team out on the pitch.

Still sleeping in her cot was little Miss "Don't call me Bones!" herself. The Hufflepuff he had met yesterday was sane enough and also seemed to be one of the more intelligent students that attended the school. She hadn't woken up yet although, she had just arrived this morning. She was much paler than she had been when they had met before and lying in her cot with her braid coming loose like that, Montague thought she looked as though she was on her death bed. He hoped that wasn't the case.

To the left of Susan was the youngest of the Weasley clan. Although Montague didn't know her personally, he assumed that she was like her brothers. A complete idiot. From his experience with her brothers, he had deducted that they had an eye for creating quite ingenious pranks but, other than that possessed the IQ of a mouldy piece of cheese. Only, not quite so developed.

Lastly, there was Draco Malfoy, the biggest prick that he had ever met. Not only had Montague suffered from Malfoyitis when he had attended Hogwarts but it seemed that he waould have to tolerate Malfoy for a while longer. Much more than the average human being can stand.

It was when Susan began to stir that he was woken from his analysis. The Weasley girl was immediately by her side.

Dazed, Susan looked around before falling into discussion with Ginny. "Where am I? I mean, how did I get here?"

Ginny stared at her. She had had a similar response when she woke up but had thought maybe she'd hit her head sometime in the night, explaining why she couldn't remember what exactly had happened. "You mean, you don't remember either? I woke up and found myself here too. Can anybody actually remember what happened before you arrived here? Wherever here happens to be." The last part was mumbled more to herself than anyone in general.

The only response Weasley got was silence. It wasn't at all comforting. After a quick series of questions, Ginny was able to deduct three things: they had all woken up in this room this morning; they had no idea how they got here and everyone had two symptoms (coughing and a slight fever).

"Perhaps we've been placed together because of our symptoms." Oliver's suggestion was reasonable.

"Well what happens when you develop new symptoms then?"

"Different rooms for different symptoms." Susan's husky voice from before was gone, replaced with a voice made raspy from her coughs. "But how many symptoms are there…"she trailed off, pausing to think. After a minutes pause, she continued. "Has anyone actually been told what we have? I've been injected with every vaccination possible, I've tasted every remedy that they've forced me to take whether hidden in my food or shoved down my throat and not once have they actually told me what kind of virus this is." She was forced to stop again due to a bout of coughing but resumed immediately afterwards. "I've been thinking that, a lot of this is bizarre. We are allowed no communication with the outside world, I'm guessing because nobody else has whatever this is. How does a remote castle catch a plague that even the busiest cities haven't? Doesn't that strike you odd?"

"But…" Ginny wavered, still letting Susan's ideas sink in. "People have to know something's wrong. My family wouldn't just accept that I'm locked up here being quarantined… they must get routine letters, updates on our conditions."

"Maybe they weren't told that we're being quarantined. Maybe letters weren't even sent and they think we're all just doing whatever it is we stayed here at the castle to do in the first place."

Susan nodded, "I agree with Montague, if they aren't telling us anything, I don't think they're telling our families."

Oliver held up his hands. "You two," he stared at Montague and Susan, "are making this seem more like a conspiracy than a routine quarantine. These Red guys work for the Ministry, I'm sure they just want to keep it hush hush for now and when we're all cured, they'll say a flu epidemic or whatever hit Hogwarts and let the Prophet do a story or two on it. After that, we can all go home and have a happy Christmas."

"You're wrong." Startled, everyone looked to the corner where Malfoy was getting out of his cot. "Firstly, we can't even know what day it is, days may have already gone by, none of us can actually remember what happened before…" Malfoy stared at his surroundings, letting them sink in, "here."

Oliver ran his fingers through his hair that now seemed to be a lot longer than before. "Shit."

* * *

"There used to be five of us here; Dennis Creevy, Padma Patil, Ernie MacMillan, Marissa and myself. Marissa and Ernie had been here the longest and were by far the sickest, they both had a myriad of symptoms: headaches, coughing, fever, sweating, chills, chest pains, bruises that seem to come from nothing… the list is endless. They seemed to have a new one everyday. It was about six days ago that it happened. _They_ came in the middle of the night." 

"Who are they?" Hermione had asked, almost unwillingly, as if the answer would turn out to be some sort of monster.

Cho continued as if she hadn't heard the question. "I pretended to be asleep but I saw everything. They pulled these long syringes from these cases they were carrying. They filled it up with some fluid and injected it into Marissa's and Ernie's eyes. After that, _they_ took them." Cho began to cry and Hermione could tell that the experience had truly been horrible.

It was after Cho had stopped crying that Hermione asked again, "Who are they?"

Cho paled, the name seemed to frighten the girl.

"Who are they?" Her whisper urged Cho to continue.

"When your symptoms worsen, the Reds come for you." She instantly began to cry again, collapsing onto her cot and sobbing into her pillow. Hermione didn't have to wait long, the girl tired herself out quickly and was soon in a deep sleep. It wasn't until then that Hermione moved, seeking out her potions teacher.

He was leaning against the wall, although he was clearly sick and exhausted, Hermione still thought he looked powerful. At first she felt nervous and self-conscious around him, he still hadn't acknowledged her but, they both knew that they would have to cooperate to figure out what was going on.

Hermione leaned on the wall, next to the teacher she had hated for the past seven years. "What do you think?" Her voice was a soft whisper but seemed to echo forever in the stone room.

He sighed, deep in thought. When he spoke, it was with a fierce determination. "I need to find out more about these Reds."

"How?"

Snape looked at the sleeping form of Cho. "She's sicker than both of us and in the short time that we've both been here she's already developed a new symptom. The Reds will come eventually."

"How will that help?"

"Ms Granger," His voice was now back to it's harsh self, the one that Hermione hated, "Unless you have something to contribute besides annoying and repetitive questions, I suggest you get to sleep."

Hermione did decide to lie down, angry that even in a predicament like this he would continue to be an insufferable man.

**I hate him.**

* * *

"Why are you here?" 

Bill Weasley winked at the young blonde girl. "Highly dangerous business. Top secret." He liked Luna, she'd visited the Burrow last summer and although she was a bit of a nut, she was nice enough. Easy on the eyes too.

"Argh! I'm so fucking bored." The blonde boy in the corner walked towards them and sat down in the triangle that consisted of Luna, a silent and rather intimidating Slytherin named Blaise and Bill. "It's been six fucking hours and I'm so fucking bored."

Blaise turned to the obnoxious speaker. "And I'm so fucking sick of your whiny ass and I don't even know your name."

"Smith. Zacharias Smith."

Bill stared. "Zacharias? What kind of a name is that?"

He shrugged. "What kind of a name is Weasley?"

Bill cracked his knuckles menacingly.

"Good point."

"Well," Luna's voice sounded rather out of place among the young men, but she continued anyways. "We're off to a smashing start."

* * *

_Voila! Chapter Two! I promise that #3 will be longer than these two, but, I'm really tired so, stay tuned._

_-Adie. _


	3. Break the Ice

The usual disclaimer.

We're so sorry for the lack of updates. Won't happen again. On to the story.

Love, Adie.

** Blood red lips, they shake like leaves  
You're flesh and blood, but what's underneath? **

**Don't turn out the lights  
Kiss yourself goodnight cause there's a killer  
And he's coming after you  
Kiss yourself goodnight, tonight  
Cause there's a killer and he's coming after you**

**The Hoosiers - Killer**

**Break the Ice**

Cho was still sleeping. It had been hours since the older girl had initially exhausted herself. Still, she shivered, and even in sleep, her body was wracked with dry heaves. Despite her chattering teeth, the black-haired girl had a rapidly climbing fever. Every half hour when Hermione went to the other girl's cot, in a naive search for improvement, her hopes were dashed when her fingers touched Cho's sweltering forehead. She was getting worse. Fast. Her cot had become her deathbed.

"Professor," Hermione, reluctantly, called to the brooding Potions Master who, since she could remember, had been sitting upright in his bed, his back against the stone walls. "I need your help."

Snape looked up, disturbed to be called out of his thoughts. "And what do you expect me to do, exactly, Miss Granger? I'm wandless, have no knowledge of healing and don't even know what illness we've all succumbed to." He didn't move from his cot. He'd been watching Cho for the last couple of hours as well, but whatever this sickness was, it was well beyond him to do anything about it.

It was killing him to be so useless. He knew nothing.

Meanwhile, though she tried to block it out, Hermione could only picture herself in Cho's position. How long before she became the hopeless, dying figure? Weeks? Days? A mere couple of hours? She was scared.

"But Professor," Hermione protested weakly, not up to dealing with Snape's usual cruel demeanour. "I think she's dying. What if those Red men come and get her, like she told us?" Hermione remembered Cho's story of who she called, the Reds, who come in the middle of the night to take away the severely ill, injecting serums into their eyeballs. Shuddering, she thought of poor Cho who, wracked with coughs, heaves, chills and a fever, was surely going to be next.

"Let them come," Snape muttered to himself.

* * *

"I've been wondering something," Luna pondered aloud. Everyone stopped what they were doing to listen. After the morning shouting match between Zacharias and Bill, no one has spoken, too involved in their own thoughts. "I was just thinking that if we're being quarantined, then we are, presumably, being monitored, right?" 

Slowly, as if unsure of where she was headed, everyone nodded except for Zacharias, who simply rolled his eyes. There were a couple of "That sounds about right"'s and "Makes sense to me"'s to be heard before Luna continued.

"The thing I don't get, however, is that how are they watching us and how are they getting to us? Does anyone see any windows?" Everyone's eyes circled the room. "Any doors? Mirrors? Holes in the wall?"

There were none. A confused murmur resounded throughout the room.

Only Zacharias scoffed. "Come on Loony," he said cruelly, as if talking to a child. "It's called _magic_! Nothing to get too excited about, considering you've been studying it for about six years! Obviously though, it still hasn't quite penetrated your think skull."

Luna remained unfazed, having had to endure the stupid remarks of students all her years at Hogwarts. She was used to it, and besides, Zacharias's were a little on the pathetic side in terms of witty and cruel insults. She didn't know why he even bothered.

Bill, however, shot daggers at the blond Hufflepuff as he quickly rose from his cot and began marching over to the other boy's only to be stopped by Blaise, who held a retsraining arm in front of him. "How would you like my fist to penetrate your face, Smith?"

"Bet my face isn't the only thing you'd like to _penetrate_, eh Weasley?" Zacharias boldly taunted, rising to the occasion. Still, he scooted back an inch on his cot.

"I hate to interrupt your awkward sexual fantasies, Smith, but I'd actually like to hear what Lovegood has to say." Blaise sidled over to Luna's cot where he lazily draped an arm around her shoulder. "Go on, Lovegood, you smart minx."

"Well, obviously we got into this room somehow. Assuming we're still at Hogwarts-"

Zacharias snorted. "That's likely."

Luna didn't even spare the boy a glance. "Assuming we're still at school, apparating is impossible on the grounds. Even if we have been transported outside the grounds, wherever you apparate to, you need to be able to apparate back. Apparating is impossible here," she referred to Bill's numerous attempts earlier at apparating out of the room.

Bill nodded. "Apparating and wards work on a parallel. You can't have wards to stop people from apparating out but not have wards for apparating in. They must have broken down the wards when they brought us in."

"Then all we have to do is wait for some other sick student to get brought here and then _bam! _We apparate our asses out of here." Zacharias's eyes glinted with excitement. Finally, a shred of hope.

"I thought of that too," Luna remembered. "But I was here first, before the rest of you came, yet I can't remember you being brought in here. All of a sudden, you just were. Isn't that funny?"

"Funny's hardly the word I'd use," Blaise murmured.

It was quiet for a while, the only sound coming from Luna who was humming a popular song, clicking her heels together to the tune and apparently, uninterested in the present party. Bill and Zacharias found it more than a little unnerving how easily she zoned in and out, depending on the conversation, never knowing if she was listening in or just thinking about Nargles.

Bill turned to Blaise now, who was equally as hard to read. There was no doubt he was intelligent, Bill could see as much just from his eyes, he seemed friendly enough, different from the usual Slytherin mix and yet, he was definitely keeping a secret. Aside from the occasional remark, either sarcastic or full of innuendo, he hadn't contributed at all to the theories. It was that which Bill found unpleasant, he very much disliked being in the dark about something and Blaise remained a complete mystery. Bill smiled to himself. Mysteries can always be broken down.

* * *

She knew this was going to happen. Without the piles of homework and the awaiting piles of extra credit work to do, without SPEW, without Harry and Ron's homework to do, she knew it would eventually come to this. Hermione Granger was bored. She couldn't even clean the damn room. It was immaculate, seeing as how there were only three cots, two of which were already pristinely made, and nothing else. 

Hermione began to pace at the side of her bed. Her bare feet would smack against the cold stone in a dull pattern. Left, pause, right, pause, left, etc. What could she do? She knew she was already rather sick but surely it couldn't be healthy to be cooped up in a dark prison. Especially when her only company was her cantankerous Potion's teacher. And equally unhealthy was to dwell on what was happening to them all. Or worse, what _could_ happen.

Left, pause, right, pause, left, etc. It went on, her feet striking the floor as she paced, the resounding clip-clopping pattern reverberating in her mind. She needed to block out all thought and the noise kept her distracted. She needed to keep out all thought, otherwise, and she inadvertently thought this, she was going to go mad.

And then, the idea came like a lightning strike. Either that or her fever was rising again. Of course, it was completely out of character but, she had a feeling it would do Harry and Ron proud. Resolved, she headed over to Snape's usual thinking spot, the corner farthest away from her and Cho.

"If you don't mind Ms. Granger, I'd rather be left alone."

Hermione ignored the request. "I was just wondering if we could have a little chat."

Snape stared incredulously at her. "A chat?" Hermione nodded. "Ms. Granger, I wonder how the severity of the situation has escaped you-" He began angrily only to be cut off mid rant.

"Great!" Hermione trilled. "Have you..." she began lamely, not having completely gotten to this part in her plans yet. "...read any good books lately?" It was the best she could do.

Snape just continued to both stare at her confoundedly and fume silently. His mix of emotions made it difficult for Hermione to tell what he was going to do. The way she calculated it, there were three scenarios which could happen.

First, that he would simply turn away from her and continue, like he had been doing for the past day, to ignore her. This was one of the more likely option as it was what had generally occurred in the past when she'd tried to get a small speck of conversation out of him. Hermione gave this possibility a 50 chance of occurring.

Second, that he would continue the rant he had started at her and lecture her about "the severity of the situation". Obviously, he thought she was a complete idiot for mentioning such trivial questions such as "Read any good books lately?" when they were being forcibly quarantined with a sense of impending doom looming over them. Hermione could see where he was coming from with this train of thought. She deducted a 50 chance that this would occur.

The third option was that he would answer after he finished blinking at her in astonishment with some unremarkable reply such as _Dark Arts for the Soul _or _Men are from Mars, Women are from Venus._ Hermione gave this option a zero percent chance of survival.

"The last good book I read was _Contingency Plans._"

Hermione gasped. Not only was the reply certainly unexpected, but she knew that book, it was one of her favourites. "You...you've read it?"

"I take it you've heard of it."

"Heard of it? It's one of the only non-textbook books I've actually memorized." She gushed. "I just wasn't expecting you to have read it, first and foremost because I thought it really wasn't your cup of tea, it's not like there's any potion mixing going on and also, because it's a muggle book."

He stared at her, one brow perfectly arched. "So, what you are saying Ms. Granger is that, I could not possibly be interested in any books that don't involve potions or are written by muggles." His reply was dictated in his usual cold demeanour. Hermoine realized just what she had been implying in her statements and wished desperately to take them back. "Yes, clearly I have no life outside the dungeons; everything I do must revolve around potions. Also, being the muggle hater I am would certainly never be amused by such drivel. The only thing I do for fun is punish helpless muggle-borns and Gryffindors such as yourself."

It was like a slap in the face. Her face burned with humiliation and anger, directed both at herself and the potions master. How could he continue to be so cold and unsympathetic and..._mean. _She wanted to run back to her cot at the far end of the room and hide under its sheets. Only her feet wouldn't cooperate and all she could do was stand there.

"Next time Ms. Granger, do not involve me in your amusement."

* * *

**Day Two**

The room was as dark as ever, no light, no cracks in the wall, just a darkness that enveloped everything. The five cots were filled, their occupants sleeping soundlessly. Only when a faint hum sounded did two of them begin to stir.

Strange, she mused, that sounded as though it came from within the walls. Another noise. Ginny sat up, running her fingers along the thick, stone walls. And there it was again! Pressing her ear to it now she waited but, it seemed as though that was the last. She could have sworn it came from somewhere beyond the walls, outside from wherever they were. She yawned, something like this could wait until later, after a good, long sleep. Ginny tucked herself back into the cot, adjusted her pillow and closed her eyes, scrunching them tight. She was more relaxed then she had been for a while, and allowed herself to drift off to sleep...

"Weaselette? That you?"

Merlin's beard! Ginny groaned. Of course it would be too much to ask for an uninterrupted sleep for once. She propped herself up on her elbows, and waited for her eyes to adjust to the dark once more although, the sudden nausea and bad taste in her mouth told her she already knew who it was.

"Weaselette, you awake?"

"No, I usually sleep sitting upright Malfoy." She could practically see him smirking now from across the room. "What do you want?"

He sighed, the plain shirt he was wearing tightened across his chest as he ran fingers through platinum blond hair which fell over his eyes. Ginny didn't notice any of this though. "I know you heard that too. That noise from within the walls and, well, I was just wondering what you thought it sounded like." He shrugged his shoulders, as if he couldn't care less about her reply.

"I dunno, it sounded like... well, any other noise really, nothing remarkable."

"Are you sure? I mean, out of the two of us, you're the one with more experience when it comes to communicating with walls."

She paled but kept her voice steady and light. "As_ hilarious _as being abducted by a giant, killer snake who travels through plumbing is Malfoy, it hardly makes me an expert on noises coming from within a wall."

"All I'm saying Weaselette, is that that noise sounded pretty familiar to me."

"Do tell Malfoy." She rolled herself back into bed and lay down. "I'm just dying to know what you think."

"It was a person, Weaselette, and I'm pretty sure they were screaming."

* * *

That's all for now but chapter four is already in the works! It should be up quite shortly! 


	4. It's So Cold

_TWO chapters in three days? This must be some kind of record of us. _

_We think it's because we had so much time on our hands during March Break – since we weren't off vacationing in Cuba or being galvanized by cabana boys. So, because the end of our break is here, it will probably take us longer to write and get the chapters up, but we hope that it's worth the wait._

_Thanks to all who have reviewed us – we LOVE your comments._

**Bad dreams in the night  
You told me I was going to lose the fight,  
Leave behind my wuthering, wuthering  
Wuthering Heights.**

**Wuthering Heights; Kate Bush**

* * *

**It's So Cold**

**Day Two**

Ginny was wide awake now, practically having jumped out of bed only a minute ago. "This isn't some sick joke of yours is it?"

"Surprisingly, I'm not quite the sadistic bastard you and the other weasels build me up to be." Draco lifted himself out of the cot and began to pace, walking towards her, then away. Aside from the tousled hair, he looked as stoic as usual; no signs of worry or concern were to be seen. 

Ginny muffled a cough, and only realized now that the both of them were whispering. But, she was scared now, and nowhere in the room was there sleeping one of her brothers, Harry, Hermione or Luna. The only one who could possibly calm her was pacing back and forth mere inches away from her. She didn't hold her breath. "Listen Malfoy, I think, that...for now, this should stay as... our own little secret." Not that she necessarily thought he would actually lower himself to everyone else's level and talk amongst the group, merely just taking a precaution.

He rolled his eyes but did stop the pacing. He knelt on the ground in front of her, as if proposing. Happily, that was not the case. "I do possess something called tact." It was more of a growl than a reply, each syllable pronounced slowly and purposefully, as if he thought of her as mentally incompetent. Not that she put it past him, but without her wand and her famous bat bogey hex, she let it slide. "Besides, I'm tired, and I'm going to go back to bed and pretend that we never had this conversation."

You and me both, ferret boy. "Well, _good_," Ginny stressed out lamely. She had been well armed with a snappy comeback had he disagreed with her. But he hadn't. He had thrown her off guard and Ginny swallowed slowly, afraid that he may continue to do so in the future. Why wasn't he just exactly like she had grown up expecting him to be?

Sure, he did have the cruel and cool attitude down-pat, but he was smart and observant. Ginny never thought she'd be giving him credit for actually possessing a brain.

Next time, she thought, she wouldn't allow herself to be thrown off her guard like that. She was readying her arsenal in her mind, so that she would be prepared for whatever he threw at her next. She was going to be well armed and she would go out firing.

"Go to sleep, Weasley. I think it's over." He was referring to the screaming, the terrified wailing that had stopped only five minutes ago. His voice was tired and Ginny, for the first time realized that he too was sick. It was hard to think of him succumbing to the same virus as the rest of them. Ginny sniggered. How _common_, she thought. How decidedly low for a Malfoy. 

Soon, from across the room she heard Malfoy's slow and rhythmic breathing, confirming that he was asleep. And so, there was only her, tossing and turning in her small little cot, even smaller than her bed back at the Burrow. Her throat tightened and tears threatened to spill. She had been avoiding that subject. But still, it was hard now to erase the images of home that flashed through her mind, wondering what everyone was doing, if they missed her at all. She sniffed. No, they don't even realize I'm gone, too busy enjoying their holidays, feasting, wrapping gifts and just enjoying everyone's company. It was all too much, and soon, although not as quietly as she hoped, she was crying into her pillow. It was only then did Ginny notice that someone was up and walking towards her.

"Come on Weasley, 'tis the season to be jolly." That sounded rich coming from him. Malfoy was the type who was never jolly, no matter what the season.

"Go away Malfoy. I wish to be perfectly miserable on my own."

"And under normal conditions, I would happily oblige. However, as much as I would like to revel in your anguish, your little sob fest is cutting into my sleep. So just..." Draco looked down at the small form nestled underneath the covers; head buried deep into the pillow, hair sticking every which way, and muffled sobs shaking the cot. "...calm down." A lame finish but, the time for a round of insults had passed.

"Oh, I'm _so _sorry for disturbing you, Malfoy," Ginny falsely gushed, the effect slightly ruined by the sporadic heaves that littered the spaces in-between each word. "But I'm not some House Elf you can just tell to shut up! If I want to cry, then I will cry!"

As much as she wanted to fire off her usual barrage of insults, Ginny just didn't have the energy. The sickness was taking it's toll on her, leaving her physically exhausted and her homesickness was leaving her mentally fatigued. 

"Nobody _wants_ to cry, Weaselette," Draco muttered to her. 

It was this place. Much as she tried to imagine she was at home, surrounded by the warmth of her family and all the familiar sights and sounds the Burrow, she couldn't. All she could see in front of her were the cold stone walls. It was her prison, and it wasn't easily forgotten.

Malfoy, staring at Ginny's pathetic form in front of him, was perplexed. What was he to do? He couldn't very well sleep with the annoying racket that was Ginny Weasley's crying. And she certainly didn't show any signs of stopping, as she let out a wail while she face-planted her thin pillow. Maybe he could smother her? That certainly was a viable option.

It was then that Oliver pulled his head out from underneath the covers, looking about the room to see where the noises were coming from. His eyes rested on the two figures across the room, later to be identified as Ginny and Malfoy. Strange, he thought sleepily, those are two people I never imagined having a conversation, especially one without hexes and curses flying every which way.

"Guys, I don't really know why you're talking to each other, even weirder is in _the middle of the night_," the last bit he grossly exaggerated, "but, some of us are trying to sleep. So, if you guys can manage to tear yourselves away from each other-"

"Easily done." Ginny snapped having noticed the proximity of her body and Malfoy's. Her tears were still wet on her face but, Oliver's intervention allowed for a much needed distraction. "And really Oliver, to think that Malfoy and I were chatting. No, unfortunately the truth is much less unsettling, and Malfoy here was just leaving." She looked over at Wood, as if to validate her excuse only to find him sprawled out in his bed, snoring heavily. 

"Do you really find the idea of us having a somewhat civilized talk that disgusting?" Her little fib to Oliver had irked him for some unknown reason. In fact, he had actually been enjoying their banter. It could be quite difficult to have witty repartee with Crabbe and Goyle, especially after a couple of butterbeers.

The look on Weasley's face said it all much too clearly. She was repulsed.

It then hit Draco why it was bothering him. It was the cold, hard slap of _rejection_. It wasn't that he wanted the frizzy-haired, freckle-faced, red-eyed, snivelling Weasley girl. Not in that sense, at least. It was just that even though he was nothing like she had ever thought him to be, he wasn't even good enough to talk to. Draco had never been not good enough for anything. Or anyone.

_He_ should've been the one disgusted by _her_. She was a Weasley. A poor, muggle-loving Weasley. While he was a Malfoy. He should've all but ordered her to get to the floor and kiss the ends of his robe. She should've been fluffing his pillow or soothing the creases out of his cheap cotton sheets - not wailing like a Banshee and doing everything possible to keep him from sleeping.

"Good night then, Weasley," he drawled, looking up at her with unreadable eyes. "If they haven't taken you by the morning, I'll be sorely disappointed. The Weasley stench is becoming unbearable."

Her only response was more wailing.

His eyes widened. Unbelievable. _Un-be-liev-able!_ She hadn't even listened to a word he said. Not only was she a) still crying and b) still snivelling, she was now ignoring him. Well Miss. Weasley, I will make sure that you never ignore me again. 

And on that note, he stalked off to his cot, which was cold and uncomfortable, and tried to get some sleep. Only images of a small redheaded girl kept distracting him. 

The screams from earlier were far from both of their minds for the rest of the evening.

* * *

It had been hours since their last interaction, since he had humiliated her and, politely asked her to leave him alone for the rest of their duration, however long it should be. No matter how bored she was, Hermione honoured his request. Out of all of them, she had the most energy, the least amount of symptoms. With that thought she turned over to Cho's cot. It lay there vacant, sheets neatly folded and pressed. She half expected there to be a mint lying on the pillow. She remembered earlier that morning, when she had awoken. The first thing she noticed was Snape, his eyes glued to where Cho used to be, burning with fury. Hermione was able to deduct that quite easily. Clearly she wasn't the only one who had missed the arrival of the ever elusive Reds. It was frightening, she had half expected Snape to have this all figured out by now. But he was just as confused as her, something that troubled Hermione very much.

Hermione couldn't understand her need – the burning desire inside of her – that wanted to see that Reds so badly. She figured that once she saw them, everything, all the missing pieces would fall into 

place. Every question that she'd searched and searched her own mind of the answers for, would be revealed. Logically, she knew that wouldn't be what would happen.

Logically, she knew she was terrified. Last night, she'd stared at Cho's cot, wide-eyed for most of the night until she'd eventually drifted off to sleep. Hermione hadn't been afraid that she'd miss them come and go, but afraid to fall asleep. Afraid to be taken. Even now, seeing the empty cot struck a chord in her heart. She felt awful, not feeling scared for Cho, but scared for herself.

And deep, deep down inside her, she was scared to wake up and find her teacher gone. She didn't know if she was capable of facing this all alone.

"Miss Granger?" Snape's query shook her out of her thoughts. "What are your symptoms?"

"Fever, mainly, I think. My entire body feels so hot, it's hard to tell if I'm really burning up or if it's just the way I am. Other than that, some basic flu symptoms and dizziness."

"Dizziness? Are you feeling faint, Miss Granger?"

"Not now, no. But it's getting harder and harder to get out off bed each morning and standing up straight is becoming practically impossible." Hermione didn't know why, but her cheeks began to feel even hotter. She was embarrassed. The idea that Snape might find her weak, a liability to his cause, didn't sit well with Hermione.

"How sick do you think you are?" Something in his tone suggested that he was, for some reason, implying that she wasn't sick as all.

"Very," she replied hotly through gritted teeth.

Shaking his head slightly, his long hair swaying back and forth over his hooded eyes, Snape through his actions, seemed to retract his last question. "What I meant was, how sick are you?"

Hermione stared at him blankly. "Fever, dizziness, flu symptoms...I just finished telling you that. Perhaps memory loss is a new symptom, Professor."

"Again, that's not what I meant. My mind, for some reason, is hazy. I'm having trouble getting across what it is I want to say." He stopped here, almost apologetically, as if he were sorry for confusing her. "Besides your dizziness , which I think is from a severe lack of minerals and vitamins or perhaps low blood pressure, I don't think you're really sick. I think you only think you are. Or rather, I think you're being made to think you are."

"Oh really?" Hermione was dubious, as appealing as the idea was, that this sickness wasn't actually real, she knew how she felt, and her mind certainly was beyond the capability of playing tricks one her. Perhaps, she thought, paranoia is a new symptom. Though, it was hard to tell, Snape had no problem before feeling as though people were out to get him. "So, you think something in our heads is manifesting itself into physical symptoms? Or is it that this plague that went around school is all just mass hysteria?" The idea angered Hermione.

"If only it were so simple Miss Granger." It was a mumble but within the walls which amplify every sound, it was impossible for Hermione not to have picked it up.

"Professor, if you know something that I don't, I really suggest you tell me. You can't just leave me in the dark here, our lives are at stake and you're hardly in a position of power to do so." She paused before continuing. "You have to realize that this isn't your classroom anymore."

"You think I don't know that!" His eyes blazed and Hermione involuntarily leaned back. "I'm without my wand, my books, my potions and now I'm losing my wits. Don't assume I am unaware of my surroundings."

Her jaw dropped open and she felt as though the wind had been knocked out of her. Snape, who for so long had been as hard as a rock to her, was now crumbling apart in front of her. He was admitting to her all his flaws – that he wasn't in control any longer. 

For a moment, there was nothing but silence as both Hermione and Snape allowed each other to regain their composure. 

"I _feel _sick though. I'm coughing and sweating. These are physical. You can't just manipulate the body from the mind like that." Wrapping her head around this idea was difficult. How could he be denying the existence of everything that she felt.

"Physical sensations can be manipulated from the mind like that, though. I could hurt you if I wanted to, using my mind to conquer yours. Make you believe you're bleeding, hurt...dying. I could create the most unimaginable pain inside your head. I could do all that." It was a whisper but it reverberated within her entire body more than any scream or yell had ever done before.

"If it's all in our heads, Professor, what are they treating us for? What are they giving us?" 

Snape's eyes darkened and instantly, Hermione knew that's what he'd been thinking to. "That, Miss Granger, is a very, very good question."

* * *

"Maybe this sounds like a really stupid idea but, what about escaping from this place?" Though it had been on everyone's minds for a while now, it was only Bill who voiced it aloud. It was only really because Zabini and Zacharias had been at each other's throats for most of the morning. Or whatever time it really was.

"What did you have in mind Weasley? Perhaps, we'll just casually walk out of here? Maybe stop for a chat with theReds? Or is it you've forgotten, we can't apparate everywhere, they've probably got us monitored and, we've got no wands or anything. So, really, enlighten me, how is an escape even possible?" 

Bill glowered at Smith. "I was under the impression Hufflepuffs were supposed to be pretty charming people. Guess even the sorting hat can make mistakes." Bill held up his hand in order to silence Zacharias's upcoming barrage of insults. "All I'm suggesting is an escape, I'm offering no explanations of how to or anything but maybe, if we put our heads together, for once, maybe we could come up with something. I'm not asking for much, just a little brainstorming."

"Yeah, that means thinking with your brains rather than your arses." Zabini's remarks were clearly aimed at the blond sitting indignantly in the corner.

Zacharias glowered sulkily for a moment. However, he began to chuckle as a thought crossed his mind. "Oh, I absolutely cannot wait to hear the completely barmy ideas that Loony over there comes up with," he said, tilting his head in the direction of Luna.

Luna paid him no attention. It wasn't that she was deliberately ignoring his remarks, rather that she was too caught up in her own thoughts to realize that he had been talking in the first place. Zacharias watched, amused, from the other side of the room as Luna, deep in thought, comically began tilting her 

head back and forth as though weighing the pros and cons of each idea on her own shoulders. She'd then shake her head severely, as though it had been stupid to think that. Then a second later, she'd brighten up again with another idea and repeat the process. Sometimes, she would stroke her chin pensively for dramatic flair.

Though he was cruel to her, and he certainly didn't understand her, Zacharias Smith would be the first to admit that he got a kick out of Luna Lovegood. She was so mesmerizing to watch. Funny too, he smirked. If only he could read her mind sometimes, it'd be pretty cool to see what plans she was formulating now.

Luna however, was busy thinking of how perhaps they could dig a tunnel underground, once outside, steal some broomsticks and wands, and make their getaway. However, there were obstacles to overcome and things to take into account. She played the scenarios in her mind: First, the Reds would give chase, and Luna would be separated from the others, and crash from her broom, plummeting to the ground. Unfortunately, her crash caused major trauma to the head and she became amnesiac. A renegade house elf would find her and take her as ransom in order to meet his demands for higher wages. However the trade goes terribly wrong and she was kidnapped by muggle bandits who took her to the hills of Nepal. There, she would live out her days as a yak herder. No, Luna thought that would never work out. I'd much rather work with Nargals anyway.


End file.
